Beyond the Brambles
by only breath
Summary: "One day my mother went to sleep, and she never woke up. And now Father sits in his chair, but he's not there. Not really. He breathes, but his heart does not beat, and he's gone. I have lost him." / Needing to escape it all, Scorpius and Rose travel beyond the brambles, finding a utopia where they have each other. This is the start of it all. .:For Being A Wallflower:.


_For Being A Wallflower_

**Beyond the Brambles  
**

**By _only breath_**

_[Short note: Draco moved to France with Astoria and raised Scorpius there, but they moved back to England after a while, near the English Channel. Therefore, Scorpius and Rose never met.]_

**OOO**

Brambles and thorns and unmerciful insects attacked Rose Weasley as she marched through the thick bush, as though nature was punishing her for what she had done in its own way. Cuts and scratches marred her pale skin, and in the dimming twilight, one could just make out the trickle of blood from one of Rose's deeper bramble cuts. Her wild flame hair was as unkempt as the bush itself and two vertical streaks indicated where her tears had fallen.

She had known it would happen soon. One day, her need to escape would become more than idea, a faint possibility in the corners of her mind. It had happened at sunset; her mum and dad shouted at each other through the walls so loudly that even locking herself in her wardrobe with her tears would not block out the sounds of a family slowly tearing itself apart, and so Rose, whose body racked with great, shuddering sobs, jumped out of her window and ran.

It was quite possibly the smartest thing she'd ever done. Her heart rate was slowing down, despite the fact that she was running like the devil was chasing her, and her tears were easing away, like the dying remnants of a storm. She didn't mind the painful bush; in fact, she welcomed its complexity and revelled in how alive she felt with thorns scraping at her skin like there was no tomorrow.

The bush slowly thinned out, until it was completely gone, and the panting Rose was staring at the most beautiful lake she had ever seen. Twilight was steadily giving way to night as premature stars glinted in the reflection of the lake's dead-still, black surface. In the distance, mountains were fading to black. Blooming, vibrant green trees shivered in the cool evening breeze, creating ripples across the lake, and the soft grass beneath Rose's bare and bleeding feet felt pleasant between her aching toes. A bird squawked overhead, returning home to its family, as Rose planned to do soon enough. The soft chirping of cicadas was so peaceful and it was just so beautiful here and –

"_Qui est-ce?_" a voice called out, snapping Rose out of her dreamy appreciation of the tranquil lake's beauty.

Rose squinted, wishing her eyes would adjust to the dark faster. Eventually, she made out the slender form of a boy who was looking right back at her, bewildered. The full moon was out and cast an ethereal light over this boy, who looked just like an angel that belonged to the night. His skin was as pale as Rose's and his carelessly ruffled hair was almost snow-white. Narrowed silver eyes accompanied sharp, aristocratic features, making this person sitting on the grass the most interesting person Rose had ever met.

"Who's there?" Rose asked the boy loudly, unsure whether to edge away backwards or move forward so that they could speak.

"I asked you first," he replied, the hints of a smile crinkling his eyes as he realised he was looking at a very messy girl, and Rose was surprised to hear the slight accent lacing his English words. Then again, whatever he had said previously sounded foreign, even though Rose hadn't properly heard it.

"Rose Weasley," Rose announced proudly.

"Weasley?" the boy repeated. "As in, Ronald Weasley, Harry Potter's best friend?"

Curiosity piqued, Rose gracefully strode over to the boy and sat down next to him, loving the feeling of grass tickling her legs.

"Yes. They and Hermione Granger saved the Wizarding World, you know. They did it so that we wouldn't have to live in terror of a guy called Voldemort," Rose informed him, in case he didn't know.

"I know who they are... the Golden Trio, are they not? But I haven't heard of Voldemort. How do you spell it?" the boy asked.

Rose spelled it quickly and the boy mumbled something under his breath, eyes wide with fascination.

"Sorry?"

"_Vol de mort_," he repeated louder. "It is French. It means 'flight from death'."

"And you're French?" Rose asked, interested. She had learned a fair bit of the language, seeing as how her family had moved closer to the English Channel.

"Yes," the boy confirmed, staring out peacefully at the lake. He looked so serene, it was amazing.

"Where are your parents?" Rose pried. She wanted to know more about this fascinating boy and would pepper him with questions until she was content with her findings.

"At home," he replied shortly, but there was something to his tone that suggested family was a topic he didn't want to discuss. His eyes had turned hard, his jaw tense. Cautiously, Rose continued her interview.

"Who exactly are you?"

"I am Scorpius Malfoy," Scorpius replied.

Rose turned to the glimmering lake, deep in thought. With a last name like that, there was only one person his father could be.

"My parents talked about your father once. They said he was a coward," Rose told him softly.

"He is," Scorpius spat, his accent slightly thicker in his unexpected anger, and Rose was quite taken aback. She wondered what had happened between Scorpius and Draco for Scorpius to have so much hate concentrated into those two words.

"But they said he changed. They said he made all the wrong choices, and if he had been born in a nicer family, he would have made all the right choices and become a nice boy. And they said he's okay now – he's gotten over old prejudices and he's a polite man. They said they hope he takes good care of you, because the Malfoys are talented, but they have just been raised surrounded by all the wrong views on the world. And they know you could be great; it just depends which side you sway to," Rose recounted quietly, curling her knees up to her chest.

"I'm good," he assured Rose at once. "My grand-father was evil, and so was his father, and his, and so on. But not me, and not my own father. I am of the Light side. Maybe I am the descendant of murderers, but I... I prefer to leave behind the past I could never control," he said, his brows furrowed in concentration as he searched for the right words in English.

"Those are the ghosts you can't chase away," Rose muttered absent-mindedly.

Scorpius turned to her, surprised. "Who said that?"

"My mother," Rose answered, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "She's great, you know. People used to say she was the brightest witch of her age, and she still is. She's so wise. I wish I was like her."

"She slapped my father," Scorpius said, chuckling.

An embarrassed blush coloured Rose's cheeks, but Scorpius made his feelings on the slap clear quickly.

"I think she was brave," he complimented.

Rose bobbed her head in confirmation. "What was your mother like?"

A bittersweet sort of nostalgic look clouded Scorpius' face. "She was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. Like a princess. And it was like she wasn't even aware of how many people stared at her as she walked along the streets. She was humble, and always thought the best of everyone. That's why she married my father."

"That's sweet," Rose remarked with a smile. "How is she now?"

The instant the words left Rose's mouth, Scorpius' face was so tense it looked like he might explode at any moment, and his silver eyes were empty, like windows to an vacant part of his soul.

"One day my mother went to sleep, and she never woke up. And now Father sits in his chair, but he's not there. Not really. He breathes, but his heart does not beat, and he's gone. I have lost him," Scorpius confided in her bitterly, trusting her to keep his feelings away from curious ears. Rose wouldn't tell anyone; she knew she would never bring herself to, even if she wanted to.

Regretting bringing up his mother, she dragged some grass out of the ground. The feather-soft blades sifted through her fingers as she searched for an apology, soon settling for a simple, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologising for something you can't control? You English people are strange," Scorpius scoffed, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of night and the end of summer on the wind. Even when his silver irises weren't visible, in the pale light of the moon Rose could see the slight downturn of his eyes.

"Your eyes look sad."

Scorpius said nothing, keeping his eyes closed. His eyelids, framed by long, pale lashes, barely flickered as he registered her comment.

"I don't like it," Rose continued. "I barely know you, but I don't like it when you're sad. Please smile. We say we're sorry to another person when we're sad that they are sad."

Scorpius opened his eyes, wide pupils flickering to Rose.

"I can no longer force my smiles. Forgive me, but if you want to see me smile, it must be genuine. You must do something... happy," Scorpius sighed.

Rose grinned. "Fair enough. I need to go back home now."

Scorpius didn't manage to hide his brief feeling of annoyance. "That's not happy. That's sad. We come to the lake to escape everything, and it's nice to have someone you can be alone with. Alone together. I don't want to be alone by myself."

"I wasn't finished, silly," Rose said playfully, trying to lighten the melancholy mood their conversation had infused into the air. "I was going to tell you to meet me here tomorrow. I don't know when exactly, but I will definitely come."

"I will wait all day," Scorpius promised, and then he smiled. He smiled one of those truly genuine smiles that makes the receiver's heart soar and stomach tickle, and Rose stood from her sitting position.

"_A demain_, hey? _Je reviendrai,_" Rose said, grinning at herself for speaking some French.

"_A demain_," Scorpius repeated with a slight bow of his head, and Rose left, and Scorpius was still smiling.

**OOO**

_For: _Birthday Fic Exchange (Being A Wallflower) – Key Signature Competition (Eb Major) – Double Or Nothing Comp (1440 – 1780 words) – ASAWAU Comp (glow, mountain, sign, transition) – The Months of the Year Challenge (April, love)

_Author's Note_: I hope you liked it, Being A Wallflower! :) (Is there another name I could call you?)


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